Drains on the brain

This is a teensy improvement. In all the acre or so of work that needs to be improved or fixed or cleared, I have done a twelve foot long bit.

Tis the small patch of land in front of the lean to at the far east end of the house.

And underneath there is a, wait for it, drain.  Drains on the brain.  I am utterly obessesed with the things. Maybe because I bought such a large roll of the stuff, but it is being put to good use.

I started the day by adding another drain a few feet down from the first one in the walnut bed. I’d much rather have the torrents of storm water flow through the pipes and out the other side, rather than onto my precious plants.  And the bulbs. A second drenching for those.

And I only put them in this week. I had to keep re burying them as I worked this morning, feeling more like a squirrel than a landscaper.  Luckily there was more than enough surface water to test out the positioning of the drain. It works.

And Artur made good use of the only dry spot on the farm – my knees – for a chat. He blends in so well that if I’m not on the look out, I do get attacked by a flying furry ball of fluff. With sharp claws attached.  And very little warning.

But it breaks up the day and he doesn’t realise that while he’s drying his paws on my jeans, I’m wiping my damp gloves and fingers on his fur.  A symbiotic relationsip indeed.